Double Jeopardy
by Moonlight Usagi-Chan
Summary: Chiba Mamoru is a renown detective notorious for pushing boundaries. Tsukino Usagi is the sharpest criminal defense attorney in Tokyo. When someone from Mamoru's past gets arrested that he believes is innocent, he turns to the deadliest shark he knows. AU UsaMamo
1. Chapter 1

Double Jeopardy

Rated M

Summary: Chiba Mamoru is a renown detective notorious for pushing boundaries. Tsukino Usagi is the sharpest criminal defense attorney in Tokyo. When someone from Mamoru's past gets arrested that he believes is innocent, he turns to the deadliest shark he knows. AU UsaMamo

Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon or any of the characters written in this scene. Also, I do not know anything formal about the Japanese law structure; I did my best with research, but I apologize if it's not spot-on.

 **A/N: Hey guys! I am so excited to be posting this new story and sharing it with you! The inspiration from this story comes from two sources... one is my love of Law and Order SVU (cuz I heart Elliott Stabler) and the other is that my husband is a detective (well, investigator, but tomato-tomahto)! I also used to have a career in law enforcement, and let me tell you, it really is like high school with the dramatics, man! Hahaha.**

 **Ultimately, my goal with this story is to hit a variety of genres: romance, crime, suspense, drama, and mystery all rolled into a Usa-Mamo AU. I hope you enjoy it!**

 **Also, a special thank you to CassieRaven, who beta-previewed this for me and enthusiastically encouraged me to continue writing this. I really appreciate your help! Additionally, a thank you to Pia Bartolini for taking a fine-tooth comb and making some fantastic edits! You two are AMAZING.**

 **Please review and let me know your thoughts!**

#

"Dear, dear, Tanaka-san, your son is very young, 18, correct?"

"17," Tanaka Aiko corrected.

"Ah, yes, right. 17. My, my, my and to think he'd have to spend the rest of his life in jail, since he's too young for the death penalty. Mhmm," Detective Mamoru Chiba mused, walking around the interrogation table; "If only there was a way to cut his sentence in half." Mamoru grinned, rested his hands on the table and nodded. "Oh, I know, and I think you do too, Tanaka-san. All we need is a confession from him, and the two other mongrels who broke into the store."

Aiko looked uncomfortable. "You know he can't do that," she said in a quiet voice. "He made a pact with his friends."

Mamoru arched his eyebrow. "Although this may be true, wouldn't it be better if he only had, let's say, five to ten years in prison instead of fifteen to life?"

Still silent, Aiko nodded.

"And wouldn't you agree that if his father was still alive, he'd want his son to tell the truth?"

Aiko jumped out of her chair, her face tense, her lips pursed. "Don't bring my dead husband into this, you fool," she said with an intense fierceness in her voice.

Mamoru grinned with triumph; he had hit a nerve. "Fine, but you do know that your son is going to end up just like his father: found dead in prison. However, unlike his daddy, he probably wouldn't hang himself. He'd probably get beaten up in the very first week."

"Enough!" Aiko shouted. "You bastar—"

Mamoru held out his hand to cut her off. "Listen" he said in a calm, soothing voice, "All I want is the best for your son, but I can't help if you are not willing to help me."

Aiko sat back down in her chair. "Is there any other way?" she asked, but he could hear the perseverance in her voice dwindling. Clearly, she realized the stupidity of this all, so adamant in defending her son's foolish actions.

"Well…" Mamoru thought for a moment. "You said that Yuki-san made a pact to his friend not to say anything about that night, but YOU, Tanaka-san, never made such a promise. With that said," — a grin surfaced on Mamoru's face— "I believe it's best for you to tell me what happened that night. As the mother of this young boy, I'm sure you know something…"

He could see the wheel's spinning in her head, her lips parting, her breath heavy. Yes, the confession he needed was surfacing. Aiko fidgeted in her chair. She brushed her hair back, sweat beads budding on her forehead, and then released a big breath.

"Look," she finally said, "I'm not going to give you all the details, but I can give you what you need."

With a swift motion, Mamoru sat in the seat across from her. "Now," he said with a click of his pen, "what do you know?"

"First," Aiko spoke up again, "I want to have your word that my son doesn't get life in prison."

#

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how it's done," Mamoru boasted as he sat in his office chair, relishing in full exaggeration as he extended his arms behind his head.

Kino Makoto, his partner, looked up from her paperwork, her green eyes peeking through her brown bangs, twinkling with curiosity. "How'd you do it?"

"Easy. I told Tanaka-san that I would reduce her son's sentence if she gave me the information I needed," Mamoru stated with a crack of his knuckles.

Makoto looked at him inquisitively. "You don't have the power to do that."

Mamoru grinned wickedly. "I know."

"You clever bastard," she exclaimed with a slap of her hand on the desk. "You never cease to amaze me."

Mamoru laughed as he reached for the phone. "And with that confession, I have all I need for a one-way ticket for Tanaka Yuki to Fuchū."

"Need me to call Hino-san?" Makoto inquired as Mamoru asked to be transferred to the prisoner transport line.

"Could you, please? That would be great," Mamoru thanked Makoto for her suggestion to call in their assigned Public Prosecutor's Assistant Officer. "Let her know that we have Mom putting him at the scene and he's going to holding until arraignment— Hi, yes, this is Chiba Mamoru of the Criminal Investigation Bureau. Yes, I have one prisoner ready for transport."

The two partners wrapped up their phone calls before diving back into their routine: necessary paperwork. A few exchanges here and there, the stationhouse began to quiet down as night fell, a nice reprieve from the chaos earlier. Between the arrest, dealing with a hysterical mother, and the mental exhaustion that comes from a calculated interrogation, Mamoru was looking forward to his apartment, unwinding, and getting some much-needed sleep.

His navy eyes focused on the computer screen, reviewing the document on the computer one last time. Satisfied, Mamoru clicked on the print icon, believing his report to be complete and error-free. "Just need the Inspector to sign off on this, and we will be all—"

"Set? I don't think so." Mamoru's face went from pleased to perturbed at the sound of _her_ voice in about point-five seconds. It was like nails on a chalkboard; so piercing, so crippling, so, so… dreadful.

 _What fucking dumb luck._ "Ah, I thought I heard a rat skulking in here."

Tsukino Usagi only smiled. "Ah, well, glad to see you looked in the mirror this morning, Chiba-san. Now, my client, please?"

 _Un-fucking-believable._ Mamoru snorted as he stood up. "Who called you in?"

"Tanaka Natsumi," Usagi replied as she inspected her manicured nails in faux boredom, as if he should have known this information. "Now, my client?"

"Tanaka Natsumi… wait, the _grandmother_ called you in?"

"Wow, so you do have a brain in there," Usagi responded with an eye roll. "Considering you have my client _and_ his mother under your roof, I'm going to go ahead and use the one 'duh' moment I had saved in my back pocket. Although, I didn't think I'd have to use it quite this early in our conversation."

Mamoru creased his brow. "Where the hell did she find you? Wait, wait, I know; she looked you up in the phonebook or something, right? 0120-WEASEL?"

"Hah, good one" Usagi replied with a roll of her eyes. "Considering phonebooks are obsolete nowadays, I'd say that line belongs back in 2002. Now, once again, my client?"

Mamoru crossed his arms. "On his way to Central Booking. If you hurry, maybe you can hitch a ride, too."

Usagi's lips pressed into a thin, pink line, the apples of her cheeks swelling slightly, her icy, blue eyes narrowing in his direction. "I'd think twice before you mess with me again, Chiba-san. It's that cocky attitude of yours that's going to get you into some real trouble one of these days."

Mamoru smirked; nothing gave him more pleasure than getting under people's skin, and when he was able to chafe Tsukino Usagi, the sleaziest, wormiest, biggest rip-off of a defense attorney in the Tokyo Metropolitan Area, he went home feeling a little bit better about himself.

"Nah, I'll continue to take my chances," he responded as he leaned back against the wall behind him. Satisfaction lit up inside of him when he watched her lips curl into a frown.

It didn't last; the petite attorney squared her shoulders, hardened eyes staring at him. "My client," she repeated with cold force. Had it been their first, or even their tenth encounter, Mamoru may have been a little frazzled by her demeanor. The light grey power suit, a powder blue button-up shirt peeking out from underneath, she looked every bit as professional as she made herself out to be. Hell, some may even say she was attractive. But ever since she undermined him on the bench two years ago, embarrassing the hell out of him on a case he spent six months working his ass off on, he had no problem giving it back to her any time she set foot in the station.

He leaned forward ever so slightly. "Central. Booking."

"You might want to cancel that transport," Usagi stated, "before I go ahead and file charges for unlawful imprisonment."

"Come again?"

"You heard me. Get him back here. Now."

"Sorry, but he's already on his way to the party house. Don't worry, he's in good hands," Mamoru taunted with a wink of his eye to her, but Usagi remained unresolved.

"My, my, Chiba-san; tell me, are you a betting man?"

"Only with birth control."

"Cuz' I'd go ahead and fold your cards, buddy," she stated with a toss of her blonde hair over her shoulder. "You're not going to win this one. And you're a pig!" she added with a wrinkle of her nose in disgust.

"Nah, I don't think so." Mamoru with a wave of his finger before sitting back down dismissively.

"Chiba-san, Tsukino-san, that's enough!" a voice with the accompanying sound of clicking heels interrupted their quarrel. Assistant Public Prosecutor Hino Rei slipped in between the two, her attention turned to Usagi. "Tsukino-san, your client is on their way to detention; you can counsel him there. My God, you'd think this is your first rodeo with your patronizing insistence at this."

Usagi smirked. "That's where you are wrong, Counsel. Now, I would like my client, produced, here in the next 30 minutes, so I can take him home."

Mamoru scoffed as he stood back up again. "Home? I don't think so."

"We have his fingerprint on the knife. His own mother places him at the crime scene. There's nothing for you here," Rei countered, her hand resting on her hip.

"Oh, Rei-chan, that's what you think," Usagi mused with an ominous smile as she produced a folded piece of paper. Mamoru and Rei both stared at the item, their once-confident grins falling fast.

Mamoru glared as Usagi shuffled around Rei and towards him, dragging the paper down his chest softly. From the playful wink, to the pursed lips, had it been anyone, anyone else, with any other item, this may have been a turn-on.

"Motion to dismiss."

Mamoru snatched the paperwork out of Usagi's hands. "Bullshit!"

Usagi turned around, her skinny black heels clicking matter-of-factly against the ground as she made her way from the sputtering group. "See you tomorrow morning in Chambers," she stated with a wave of her hand, not bothering to look back at the baffled detectives and prosecutor.

"But, what, how?" Mamoru stated as he looked at the document, only for Rei to rip it out of his hands.

"You sure you didn't do anything unethical?" Rei inquired as her violet eyes grazed over the wording, her brows furrowed.

"Positive!" Mamoru exclaimed. "All by the book, I swear!" Dropping his head into his hands, Mamoru let out a string of curse words. That _bitch_. What the fuck did she think she had on them? They had the evidence. The blood. Statements. All items pointed to Tanaka Yuki as the perp. There was no way—

"Mother fucker, son of a bitch," Rei muttered as she reached the second page.

Mamoru raised his head. "What?"

Rei threw the paper against his desk. "Fucking chain of command was broken!"

"What?!"

"Looks like your evidence technician logged in your bloody knife incorrectly," Rei scoffed. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"That's not fair!" Makoto interjected with a slam of her hands on the desk. "His fingerprint is _on_ there! Surely that has to count for _something._ "

"Nope. And tomorrow at 8:00 Tsukino Usagi is going to get him off. Un-fucking-believable."

"Come on, Rei. There _has_ to be something you can do," Mamoru insisted.

"Nope. You can go ahead and thank Tokyo's forensic lab for this screw up," Rei sneered as she shoved the document into her briefcase.

"Son of a bitch!" Mamoru shouted as he slapped at the paperwork, files exploding across his workstation. He didn't care; he'd clean it up later. But to have his hard work discredited due to a fucking technical error? A burglar who _stabbed_ the shop owner as he robbed him, free on the streets? He felt sick. She was going to get Tanaka Yuki off. And not just Tanaka, but his accomplices as well.

"Find me something else," Rei insisted as she made her way toward the exit, "or tomorrow he walks. You have him booked already; yes?"

Mamoru ran his hands down his face. "Yeah."

"That at least gives us some time. Dig up something. Anything. Otherwise, he walks."

 _So much for going home._ "I'm on it," Mamoru groaned.

#

Mamoru paced around the judges chambers.

He could feel his temper boiling with each word that shrew stated, twisting the truth in her favor, bringing up the smallest mistake to undermine his entire investigation.

"That's bullshit. This is bullshit. It's ALL bullshit," Mamoru interjected as he pointed his finger at Usagi. She cocked her head to the side slightly, her blonde hair wound into a bun as tight as her personality. He could feel his fury build as she tossed him a knowing smile, one that told him _I win, you lose_.

Mamoru snapped his mouth shut once he received a piercing look from the judge. "One more outburst from you and you'll be asked to leave."

"Yes, sir," he acknowledged, turning away from the two women professing their claims.

Rei did her best.

But in the end, Tsukino Usagi walked out of Chambers the victor, Mamoru's case dismissed.

His eyes lingered on her as she walked away, like she owned the fucking courthouse. She was a thorn in his side. A constant pit of misery.

He _hated_ Tsukino Usagi.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for the positive feedback (aside from the one, extremely random and judgmental doomsday prophecy chanting reviewer!). I am really excited to have received encouraging words and excitement from and tumblr users alike. It really makes my heart sing with happiness when I see your reviews!_

 _This chapter is a bit heavy on the cop stuff, so if you're into that kind of genre, I hope you like it! Fun fact - unlike America, those arrested in Japan are NOT offered a public defender. Also, their conviction rate is a whopping 98%!_

 _Also, a shout-out to Pia Bartolini for beta-editing this and passing along her fantastic edits... and at 2am nonetheless! You're too good to me!_

 _I hope you enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

Mamoru groaned into the floral pillowcase as the penetrating ring of his work phone snapped him out of his much-needed sleep.

Blearily, he reached over to the nightstand and picked up the shrilling device, identifying the number as his Inspector. Before answering, however, he took note that the time was 3:36 in the morning.

Vainly scrubbing the sleep from his face, he answered the phone with a gruff "Chiba."

"Chiba, we need you to report to Ueno Park as soon as possible," the voice commanded. Upon hearing the urgency, Mamoru propped himself up into a sitting position, confusion furrowing his brow.

"What's going on?"

"We've got a homicide. I need you there immediately; we've set perimeter at Ikenohata Gate. Kino-san is already there; she will fill you in with the details."

Mamoru could feel his adrenaline pumping with each word the Inspector issued. Homicides were at a historical low in Japan; to receive a call of this nature was exceedingly rare. Shucking the duvet cover off of his naked body, he swung his legs out of the bed and began to search for his discarded jeans.

"I am leaving now. I will be there in about 20 minutes."

"Excellent. Thank you, Chiba." As the call disconnected, Mamoru replaced the phone on the bedside stand and resumed the hunt for his clothes, not bothering to stop when a soft groan accompanied his rustling

"You're leaving?" the sleepy voice whimpered. Mamoru exhaled in annoyance.

"Yes."

"Are you coming back?"

"No."

"Aww, come on," the drowsy voice persisted. "It'll be fun. You come back after working the big case, and I'll be waiting?"

"I said no," Mamoru bit as he slid his jeans on. "That's not part of the deal." When he heard a light sigh in response, he concluded his task, slipping on his form-fitting black button up. Mamoru grimaced slightly as he recalled his previous evening's attire; he was going to get his balls busted for looking 'pretty,' he just knew it.

With a final shuffle of his stuff, Mamoru slipped his phone into his back pocket, mentally calculating how long it would take to get to the station, pick up his weapon - a New Nambu Model 60 - and car, and then get to the scene of the crime. Just as he was about to make his way out of the apartment, a chippy reply came his way.

"Don't forget, Mamoru-kun, you called me tonight."

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the handle and thrust the door open. "And you answered, An."

#

It was quite a sight to see when Mamoru pulled his Nissan Skyline up to the blockade, red and blue flashing lights streaking the night sky. With a quick flash of his badge to the patrol officer, he pulled off and parked his car by the other unmarked vehicles. As he made his way over to the group, Mamoru quickly spotted Makoto by her signature high-pony tail, who was feverishly taking notes. Just as he was about to close the distance between them, she looked up in his direction before making a scrunched up face.

"Dude, the fuck are you wearing?"

Mamoru groaned; yep, he knew that was coming. "It was all I had with me," he groaned before accepting a paper cup of coffee from one of the stand-by officers. "Thank you," he added to the uniformed colleague.

"Ah, yes, that's right. The new fuck of the month," Makoto said with a shake of her head. "It's coming together now."

"Oh, shut up," Mamoru replied with a frown. "What's going on here?"

Makoto quickly changed her expression from buddy to cop in an instant. "A couple of late-night walkers stumbled across the scene. Male victim, gunshot wound to the head," she explained briefly as they walked over to the scene.

Mamoru blinked a few times, surprised by the method. "Did you say gunshot?"

Makoto nodded. "Yes. Execution style, nonetheless."

Both pairs of feet stopped as they reached the perimeter set up around the body. Mamoru looked down solemnly, his lips curled into a frown. Shootings were rare around here, especially ones that ended in death. To go so far as to shoot someone execution style was practically unheard of, especially in such a public place.

Mamoru glanced over the victim, taking note that he appeared to be a male of Japanese descent in his mid 30's. Mamoru shuffled a bit as he looked over the victim; who was this guy? He was dressed nicely in a suit, slightly plump, clean shaven. What happened that he wound up as a victim of a shooting? Was he an innocent bystander or someone mixed up in unknown criminal activity?

Did he have a family? A wife who was now widowed?

Mamoru shook his head at the unspeakable disgust he was feeling. Murder. What the hell was the point of murder? Why would someone feel such an urge, a need to end someone's life? It was incomprehensible, deranged that there are actually people out there who thought this was how problems should be handled.

This man, regardless of his background, deserved to have this mystery solved, his killer apprehended, and justice served.

Mamoru folded his arms and began to take a closer look. From the way his body was positioned on the ground, it appeared that he was on his knees when he was shot, falling backward onto the concrete. Donning black rubber gloves, he crouched down beside the body. "Look here," he said with his finger pointing along the head. "I suspect he was kneeling when he was shot. His head smacking the pavement likely caused the bleeding from an additional head contusion."

Makoto nodded in agreement as she knelt down beside him, examining the scene closer. "The murder definitely occurred here, there's no question about that."

"It's as if he was begging. Pleading for his life before it was senselessly taken," Mamoru spat with his own conclusions. "Who the hell does that to someone?"

Makoto sighed as she stood back up. "No idea. Also, we were unable to find any identification on him, which makes me question if this was a robbery gone bad. The medical examiner is on her way to transport him to the morgue. Maybe Mizuno-san can get a hit on him with his fingerprints if a missing persons report doesn't come in soon."

Mamoru nodded. "So, no suspect in custody, I assume?"

Makoto blinked two, three times in obvious surprise. "You didn't know?"

Mamoru raised an eyebrow. "Know what?"

"We have a suspect in custody."

Mamoru's eyes widened in surprise and glee at the news. "What the hell, why didn't I already know this?"

"I assumed the Inspector told you when she called you in," Makoto replied warily.

"Well, shit, that's great!" Mamoru said with a hint of resolve in his voice. Hell, this was terrific! No wild goose chase, no need to spend days or weeks looking for this phantom killer. Justice could be served quickly. "Where's the bastard?"

"He's in the back of the patrol car."

"And you're sure it's him?"

Makoto nodded. "We found the gun with him, both the weapon and him covered in blood."

"Well, I'll be damned. That hardly ever happens," Mamoru said with a nod of appreciation. What luck! What sweet, sweet luck! "So we can get him to the hospital, get the evidence collected, and maybe even get his—"

"Mamoru—"

"— confes…what?"

"He says he knows you."

Mamoru's expression morphed into a quizzical one. "Huh?"

"I assumed that's why the Inspector called you in," Makoto explained as she led Mamoru over to the patrol car. As they approached the vehicle, Mamoru was able to make out one male in custody with shaggy blonde hair and a lanky body. It wasn't until they were within a few feet of the car that Mamoru felt his feet turn into lead bricks. "He said that he knows you, was very adamant that he wanted to talk to you and only you."

His heart fell, shockwaves skittering through his limbs. It wasn't possible; no, he was a good kid. A great kid.

"Ittou A—"

"Ittou… Asanuma."

#

Mamoru sat at his desk, drumming his fingers, desperately trying to process what the hell was going on.

Ittou Asanuma.

A model student. Overachiever. A science fiction buff and was an active researcher of all things paranormal, especially aliens and UFOs.

And now apparently a cold blooded murderer?

Sure, it had been a few years since he last saw Asanuma. More than a few, Mamoru thought sullenly, as his shoulders fell. Once high school ended and University began, their friendship took a back seat to studies. They hung out every now and then, but once Mamoru was accepted into the Police Academy, he saw Asanuma less and less; he daresay, he hadn't seen his friend in at least three, maybe four years.

What the hell happened?

How does a kid go from a gentle type like the Asanuma he grew up with to a killer?

Mamoru pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. He was so confused, rattled by the thought that someone as caring and kind as Asanuma had it in him to murder someone. What happened? Where did life go wrong for him?

"Chiba, you ready?"

Mamoru looked up at the Inspector, her cold, amber eyes settling on him. An involuntary shudder ran up his arms from the calculated stare. Once Inspector Beryl Himura found out that Mamoru had a connection to the suspect, she wanted him to handle the interrogation. The thought of questioning and badgering Asanuma made his stomach churn, but he couldn't disobey orders.

Mamoru nodded his head before slowly pushing his chair back. Makoto looked at him with a sympathetic glance, but even she could not hide the hunger for the confession twinkling in her green eyes. She wasn't wrong to think that way; after all, all signs point to him being the murderer. But Asanuma? A killer? He still couldn't wrap his mind around it.

When Mamoru and Beryl reached the interview room, Mamoru took a good, long look at Asanuma through the window. In here, he would try to crack him. Make him confess. Unwind the interwoven thoughts of a murderer. _Tactic #1: Put them in the small room; make them uncomfortable._

As much as Mamoru tried to psyche up his mind, like he did time and time again, all he could see was a frail, scared friend of the past. Someone who he tutored. Someone who he tried to guide.

Clearly, Mamoru failed him.

"Chiba," Beryl pressed, urging him to go in. He nodded, complying with the order, despite his hand shaking as he clutched the doorknob.

Letting out a painful breath, Mamoru pushed in the door and entered the room. _Tactic #2: turn up the thermostat. Get them uncomfortable, get them to start sweating. Anything to make them want to leave the room._ Mamoru looked over to the dial, the digital numbers staring back at him a very warm and distressing temperature.

His heart nearly broke when he watched Asanuma look up from the ground and at him, the recognition of the individual in front of him and awareness of the environment around him. How his look transformed from one of fear to one of regret. "M-M-M-Mamoru-sempai!" Bile rose up in his throat at the affectionate name of years past.

He swallowed hard. "Asanuma. What-"

"I didn't do it!" Asanuma interrupted. "Please believe me! I did not do this!"

"Asanuma—"

"No! No! I don't know why I am here! Why am I here?! What is happening?"

"Asanuma…"

"Mamoru-sempai, please, please believe me! I didn't do this!"

Dropping his notepad on to the table, Mamoru ran his hands over his face. "Asanuma, I can't… I can't believe that nothing happened here," he responded dejectedly.

"I swear it, Mamoru-sempai, I didn't do it!" he cried out.

Mamoru closed his eyes and held up his hand, signaling for Asanuma to stop. It took a few moments, but once he sat back down on the silver, worn out, folded chair - _Tactic #3: Don't let them get comfortable -_ Mamoru looked at him straight on.

"You were at the scene of the crime."

"I know, but—"

"With the weapon."

"I know! But—"

"You are covered in blood; DNA tests are being run to match the blood on your hands and clothing and guess what? They will match the blood of the victim."

"I know! But!"

"We've also tested your hands, and your clothing, for gunshot residue. And when those also come back positive, Asanuma, there's no helping you from there."

"But—"

"Asanuma. I can't help you unless you tell me what the hell is going on here. Please," Mamoru encouraged, "help me here. What happened? What happened to you that you're mixed up in all of this?"

Mamoru watched as Asanuma's eyes shifted, his sweaty visage flickering from fear to worry to contemplation to hesitancy. Yes, the confession, the one he was so used to receiving and usually so glad to watch come into fruition, was about to surface.

Only this time, there was no joy. No rush of adrenaline or sense of accomplishment.

He felt horrible.

Mamoru kept his eyes trained on Asanuma as the desperate man opened and closed his mouth a few times, but words did not come. Eventually, Mamoru decided to try to coax the information out with some leading questions. Opening up his manila folder, Mamoru pulled out the photograph of the victim, the headshot from the scene of the crime, and placed it in front of Asanuma. "The victim; do you know him?"

Mamoru watched as Asanuma leaned over the table and scan the photo. Eventually, he nodded slowly.

"Who is he?"

Silence greeted him.

"Who is he, Asanuma?"

"Tojo … Tojo Akira."

Mamoru quickly jotted down the lost soul's name. "Who is Tojo Akira?"

Asanuma shook his head. Mamoru sighed.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me," Mamoru coaxed. Asanuma still stubbornly silent.

Mamoru scratched at his the stubble from working overnight that began to form on his chin. He needed to figure out what was going on, but how? For whatever reason, Asanuma was proclaiming innocence while refusing to speak. Something peculiar was going on, and Mamoru needed to find out what. Was Tojo Akira the answer?

Mamoru glanced up at the mirror, hoping that by giving an eyebrow raise and tapping the paper that it would give Beryl the hint to run the unknown name. Maybe a hit would come up that could be the thread to unravel the story.

In the meantime, however, Mamoru was stumped. Asanuma looked petrified, like so many others before. Only this time, Mamoru cared. And it made it so much harder for him to do his job.

His job. Closing his eyes, Mamoru nodded. This was his _job._ His career. His passion. It was his civic responsibility to humanity to carry out justice, despite who is sitting in the chair. Friend or foe, stranger or acquaintance, he owed it to the deceased to let justice prevail.

So why did it feel so damn wrong?

"I haven't seen you in at least, what, three years?" Mamoru pondered aloud, trying to lessen the tension in the room. Asanuma nodded. "What have you been up to these last few years?"

Mamoru waited unwaveringly as Asanuma hesitated. His patience, however, eventually paid off. "I've been working," he replied vaguely.

"Did you finish University?" Mamoru was surprised when Asanuma shook his head no. "No? How come?"

"My… my dad, he lost his job. So, I started to work, so we could keep our house," Asanuma responded slowly, the reluctance to divulge information still rampant in his answers.

"Oh, Asanuma, I am so sorry," Mamoru answered honestly. Last he knew, Asanuma had wanted to become an astronomer and study lunar sciences. Aside from the childhood desire to discover aliens and UFOs, he recalled Asanuma finding interest in studying the Earth's moon. To have learned he had to give up on his dream saddened him.

"So, you found work, then?" Mamoru resolved from the information Asanuma already gave him. Asanuma nodded slowly, but still refused to give information away. "Does Tojo Akira have to do with your work?"

It was unmistakable, the flicker his eyes gave away, but suddenly, Tojo Akira and Ittou Asanuma had a common thread linking them.

The first break in the case.

"Let's talk about your work. What kind of company do you work for?"

Silence.

Mamoru tapped the eraser of his pencil against the notepad, frustration beginning to bubble. "You know, you started off so adamant that you were innocent, but now so quiet to answer questions. I can't help you unless you help me."

"Help me?" Asanuma scoffed. "Help me? You're… you're not going to help me! You're going to throw me in jail even though I didn't do this! I didn't! I swear to God I did not do this!"

"Then let me help you!" Mamoru stressed out. "I don't want to see you go to jail, Asanuma. I want to help you, but I can't do it if you don't tell me what is going on here."

"I—"

"Chiba." Mamoru looked over to the doorway, the Inspector and Makoto standing in the entryway. He frowned; he was just about to get Asanuma to give up some pertinent information, why were they interrupting him? He looked back over to Asanuma, then back over to his colleagues.

"I'll be right back," he said as gently as he could, taking his notepad and pen with him. Once he reached the two women, he closed the door behind him. "What the hell? I was about to get him to start talking!"

Beryl was disinterested. "The DNA came back."

Mamoru raised an eyebrow at that. "Already? Bullshit."

Makoto nodded in support of Beryl's word. "Ami-chan put a rush on it. The blood, at least. It's a match. The gunpowder residue and ballistics are still being processed, but we should have those back in the next day or two. But just like he said, John Doe is in fact Tojo Akira, Vice President of Japan Financial Bank, and it's his blood."

"Arrest him," Beryl ordered.

Mamoru's jaw slackened. "What?"

"I said, arrest him."

"But, we don't have his confession!"

"Inspector, I can go in and arrest him," Makoto interjected. "I was first detective on the scene after all."

"No. Detective Chiba, I am ordering you to place the suspect under arrest. Or will I have to reprimand you?"

Mamoru felt as if he had been doused in ice water; cold, shaken. Never had he been threatened to be punished, not even when he pushed boundaries. Maybe this case was too close to home for him with it being his childhood friend. Maybe he should have recused himself rather than allow himself to be called in by Beryl.

No, no. This was his job. He needed to do this.

Defeated, Mamoru nodded his head before reaching for his handcuffs, tossing a look to Makoto. She should be her arrest, her case. Just because he was called in to interrogate, a power play by Beryl so to speak, Makoto loses her arrest?

Mamoru paused and swallowed thickly, heart heavy with emotion. Stepping into the room, he didn't even have a chance to look up before Asanuma spoke.

"You're arresting me now, aren't you?"

Mamoru looked up at him and nodded. "Yeah."

"I thought you were going to help me."

"The DNA came back as a match, Asanuma. I have no choice but to arrest you."

"You said you'd help me. You said so! You said it, Mamoru-sempai!"

"Asanuma, I'm—" Mamoru paused and closed his eyes. _I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry._ "Ittou Asanuma, you are under arrest for the murder of Tojo Akira. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney at trial. Should you not be able to afford an attorney, one will not be appointed to you."

Mamoru gulped as he cuffed his friend, his schoolmate, and escorted him out of the room and to two uniformed officers in the stationhouse. He felt his morals rattled, his core shaken as he passed Asanuma off. From the brief bit of information they had exchanged, Asanuma didn't have money; he worked to save his family's livelihood. He wouldn't have a defense attorney; there were no public prosecutors in Japan. He would be tried. Arraigned.

Convicted.

"Good work, Chiba," Beryl responded, clearly pleased that the murder suspect was quickly detained, interrogated, and arrested.

Mamoru looked over to the senior officer in disgust. Numbers. All she cared about was numbers. The words were on the tip of his tongue, telling her to go fuck herself, but instead he marched over to his desk and sat down, dropping his head into his hands.

He felt fucking _awful._

But what could he do?

#

"Minako-chan!" Usagi sang as she walked down the bright, glass hallways of her law office, "guess what I've got!?"

Minako looked up from her computer and to her boss, her baby blues widening in recognition of the white coffee cups nestled in the carrier. "Please tell me that's a PSL!"

Usagi grinned. "Bingo!" Lifting the venti Starbucks cup out of the drink tray, she presented the beverage to her assistant. "Pumpkin season is back, baby!"

"Yay!" Minako cheered as she thrust her fist up into the air. "I'm so glad you're just as basic as I am!"

Usagi giggled. "Oh, I knew it was going to be a good day when I woke up today. First day of pumpkin back on the menu, the sun is shining, what could go wrong?"

"Ooh, yes, let me tell you!" Minako said hurriedly as she leaned in over her desk. "You have one hell of a hot guy waiting for you in your office. Tall, dark, handsome, no wedding ring," she added with a wink.

"Really?" Usagi said with a grin. Placing her purse and cup down on Minako's desk, she began to fuss over her hair and smooth out her dress. "I didn't have any appointments this morning."

"He just showed up, said it was urgent and needed counsel. I hope that's okay?"

"Yes, yes, of course!" Usagi said excitedly as she finished fussing with the light gray dress. "Do I look okay?"

"Gorgeous. Now go, go!" Minako insisted as she tossed her a wink. With a confident nod, Usagi opened the door, a mile-wide smile stretched on her face as she was about to say hello. As swiftly as it arrived, the friendliness quickly dropped, warmth blowing out of her.

So much for a good day today.

Usagi narrowed her eyes at the unwelcome male in her office, peering at her wall, as if he was calculating whether the Law degree on her wall was real or not. The epitome of smug. A weasel cloaked in a black suit and tie. A mockery of a detective.

"Chiba."


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you everyone for the fantastic feedback and comments! I am so excited at the response to this story so far, from the reviews to the asks on tumblr. You guys rock!_

 _A massive thank you to Pia Bartolini for her fantastic beta-work. Your editing skills are absolutely top-notch!_

 _Another shout-out to CassieRaven, who kindly shared some amazing research on the Japanese Criminal Law and prison. It is extremely different from how it is here in the US. If you are interested, I highly recommend looking into it. After all, the more you know! *throws a star in the air* XD_

 _Review review review! Hehe thanks! XO_

* * *

 _What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing. You. Stupid. Fuck?_

Mamoru's mouth pressed into a firm, thin line as he berated himself for the umpteenth time this morning. Cold, unsettling eyes pierced him like a lance when she walked into her office and, surprise surprise, found him of all people waiting for her. Who could blame her? Roles reversed, he likely would have done the same thing.

Nah. He probably would have told her to screw herself the moment he saw her. She, at least, hadn't kicked him out.

Yet.

"You've got 60 seconds to explain what the hell you're doing in my office." Mamoru's eyes followed Usagi as she dropped her bag and keys carelessly on her way to the oversized, ornate cherry wood desk. He barely repressed an eyeroll as she sat down in a gargantuan chair that practically engulfed her petite frame. She steepled her fingers and pinned him with a skeptical stare.

Mamoru stuffed his hands into his pockets before squaring his shoulders. Despite what he was here for, he wasn't going to appear weak. Not for a split second would he let Usagi think herself better than him.

"I assume you've heard about the Ueno Park homicide?"

Usagi nodded. "And?"

"That we've arrested the primary suspect, Ittou Asanuma?"

"Yes. And?" she asked again, clearly wanting him to get to the point. Mamoru shuffled his feet.

"And," he paused, a million reasons flying through his head as to why he shouldn't finish the sentence. To back off. Let it lie. _Say something derogatory. Insult her. Make her kick you out of the office. Something really fucking stupid. Don't say it_ _, Chiba. Don't ask her for–_ "I need your legal assistance."

 _You dipshit._

It was a pretty damn annoying sight, watching Usagi sputter at his request. From her jaw slackening, to her perfect eyebrows rising in question, every movement she made in response to his appeal was borderline childish.

As was her response.

"Get the hell out of my office."

Mamoru sneered. "Excuse me?"

Usagi stood up with a slam of her hands on her desk, random little trinkets rattling in response. "I said, get out. Who do you think you are coming in here asking for such a ridiculous thing?"

Mamoru ran his fingers through his bangs in frustration. "Do I look like I am fucking kidding here?" he scoffed.

Usagi defiantly crossed her arms. "I don't know what you look like besides a giant narcissistic asshole, Chiba. Now, leave."

"I knew this was a bad idea," he spat before planting his heel and spinning his foot towards the door. That bitch. That snooty bitch. He knew she would just spit at him, wouldn't help. What was he thinking, going to her of all people? But just as his hand clamped the brass handle, a flash of Asanuma's face stopped him from ripping the door off its hinges. The terrified look in his eyes. The confusion. The fear.

His cries of innocence.

Mamoru let go of the doorknob and turned to face Usagi. "Look," he began slowly, "I know that we—"

"Strongly loathe one another?" Usagi finished for him. He rolled his eyes, but bit his tongue for sake of this request.

"Yeah. But, I want you to take on Ittou Asanuma's case."

"And I would do that because?"

"Because," he swallowed, "I don't think he's guilty."

Confusion began to mix with the contempt on Usagi's face. "What makes you think that?"

Mamoru sighed before swiping an agitated hand down his face. "Because," _Here goes nothing—_ "he said he's innocent."

It was her turn to scoff. "Since when did you start working for the Innocence Project?"

"I'm telling you," he pressed, "something is not right here. During interrogation he didn't-doesn't, fit the profile."

"Wait, wait, wait," Usagi put her hand up to stop him. "You're telling me, that you interrogated this, this Ittou Asanuma guy. You've already _arrested_ him, and you're saying he's innocent?"

Mamoru nodded his head slowly.

"And you're expecting me to do what here, exactly?"

"I want you to get my interrogation thrown out. I want you to discredit the evidence. Prove he didn't do this."

"Riiiiight," Usagi responded, shaking her head in disbelief. "And what the hell is in it for you?"

"Me?"

Usagi rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you. Don't patronize me, Chiba. We are hardly on friendly terms - you want something. What, time for a promotion to Inspector? Need to schmooze a few people, grease some wheels?"

"No!" Mamoru sputtered, scrunching his face in irritation at the preposterous assumption.

"Or you're trying to make yourself look good by having me represent him and you taking down yet another criminal defense attorney. Really buff up that high conviction rate of yours. Better yet, time to bring up Japan's conviction rate from 98 to 99%, just to prove to the world how tough on crime we really are?"

"No, that's not it at all-"

"Not like it matters or anything; I could defend a Saint and they'd _still_ go to jail!" Usagi continued to fume. "So tell me, Chiba, why the fuck I should consider doing anything, _anything_ for you?"

"Because he's my friend!" Mamoru shouted as he slammed his hands on her desk.

He sat down in the seat in front of her, doing his best to try and squash down his emotions. The vision of Asanuma being escorted down the hallway by officers. The clanging of the handcuffs as they walked out of the interrogation room. How Mamoru held on to Asanuma's arm, gripping him, like he would run away.

How fucking guilty he felt for not doing anything sooner.

Usagi sighed and rubbed her temples. "When is his pretrial arraignment?"

"November 20."

"November 20. Okay, that, in theory, gives me 21 days. I mean, I've certainly worked with less," Usagi pondered while touching her chin with the tip of her finger. His eyes traced the movement and catalogued her muted orange polish. _Seasonal, yet girlish_. He mentally slapped himself. _Tsukino? Girlish? Puh-lease_.

"Where is he being detained?"

"Currently he's in the keisatsusho in my building," Mamoru said wearily. The keisatsusho for his district was a miserable excuse of a police jail. Last he knew, the cell was almost at max capacity, so Asanuma had to be with at least 5 other men. Nowhere to sit or lay down. No literature, no privacy, no proper food.

Funny how he never cared before. Criminals were criminals. Guilty until proven innocent.

"Poor kid," Usagi muttered. "What makes you think I can get a murderer off? One who has already been arrested, nonetheless?"

Mamoru heaved another guilty sigh. "That's where I come in."

"You?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"You're going to help me?" she asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

He swallowed hard, as if he were making a deal with the devil. "Yeah," he repeated.

Usagi slowly shook her head. "Unbelievable."

"Listen," Mamoru groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "I want the same thing you do: justice for an innocent man. And I believe his innocence." Removing his hand, Mamoru looked at Usagi, hoping to express to her in whatever look he could how much he believed in Asanuma. "You should, too."

Usagi groaned and tipped her head back, blonde tresses falling around her shoulders in the process. "Ugh, why am I even considering this?"

Despite knowing it was rhetorical, he couldn't help but answer. "Because despite our mutual hatred of one another, we both want the same thing here."

Usagi picked her head back up, only this time, the detestation was gone. Hesitancy and distrust remained, but there was a new look in her eye. It was as if they were twinkling with energy and mischief.

"Do tell me, Chiba; how will Ittou be paying for my fee?"

"He won't be."

"Wait, wait, wait," she stammered, the anger quickly returning. "No, you do not get to come in here and start spewing quotes of justice and expect me to do this pro-bo—"

"I will be."

"—no. What?"

Mamoru nodded his head as he repeated himself. "I will be paying for Asanuma's bill."

"Wow," Usagi said with a shake of her head, "sometimes you surprise me, Chiba." She stopped and pursed her lips in thought. "Fine. I will take on your case. Send me what you've got and I'll take a look. And you better believe I will be charging you up the ass in retribution for all the shit you've given me over the years."

Mamoru rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

"And one more thing," Usagi added as she stood up, "don't get in my way or delay anything. Keep this off the books. Payments in cash only."

Mamoru frowned. "Cash? Wh—"

Usagi shook her head in annoyance. "Cash leaves no trace. No trace means they can't circle this back to you. And therefore your name is kept out of this, unless, you _want_ your Inspector to know that the arresting detective is also the one paying for his defense."

Mamoru cocked his head to the side in thought. _She's good_.

After taking a second longer to mull the idea over, Mamoru nodded in agreement. "Deal."

"Okay. I'll see you at arraignment then."

With a final tip of his head, Mamoru turned to walk out of the office. Just as he pulled on the handle, however, Usagi's voice stopped him.

"Why me?"

"Because," he began quietly, his eyes focused on his fist around the handle, "you're a shark. And I need the deadliest one I know."

#

"You are NOT going to believe this, this, this…." Rei sputtered as she stormed into the stationhouse.

"'This' what, Rei-chan?" Makoto asked as she looked up from her computer to the fiery Prosecutor. Mamoru watched stoically as Rei snatched the remote from the cupholder and turned on the stationhouse television. She stabbed one crimson red nail at the image on the screen.

"Bullshit!" Rei finally spit out. "Absolute fucking buuuuuullshit!"

Makoto's jaw slackened, disbelief crossing her features as she looked over to the television. "Unbelievable."

 _"We have just confirmed that Tsukino Usagi will be representing Ittou Asanuma. As you know, Ittou Asanuma was arrested by authorities this past Sunday for the murder of Tojo Akira, Vice President of Japan Financial Bank. For more news coverage, keep your dial set on Channel 5. We will be following the proceedings of the trial from start to finish. For those who do not know, Tsukino Usagi is a Criminal Defense Attorney from the law firm Hahn Ohno and Nishimura…"_

"That damn pain in my ass," Rei seethed as she muted the television, her point clearly made. Mamoru frowned as Makoto was up and by her side in an instant, exchanging reassuring words about DNA, how they would work together to collect evidence, how they followed procedure.

As the two carried on and he sat in uncharacteristic silence, Mamoru had a startling realization.

The confession. Or rather, the _lack of_ confession.

Did he remember to record it?


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey guys! Thank you so much for your support and I am so sorry for the delay of getting this chapter out. It's been an insane month with the holidays and family and I am especially thankful to those for their support and well wishes for my ailing Father-in-law._

 _I am also SO THANKFUL for my beta and friend Pia Bartolini. She is a WARRIOR and between her injury, her own family obligations, the holidays, and her other readers, she continues to offer fantastic support, quality reviewing, and most of all, great friendship. Thank you so much for your help!_

 _And with this season of merry and cheerfulness, I thank all of you, readers and reviewers, for your continued support. I love writing and being able to continue to share my passions with all of you makes me so happy; even happier when I hear that you're enjoying it as well!_

 _And with that said - I hope you enjoy the next chapter!_

 _Merry Christmas and a very happy holidays to you and your family!_

* * *

Mamoru tapped the eraser of his pencil erratically on his yellow pad of paper, passingly aware he was biting down on his bottom lip once he tasted the coppery tang of blood.

For the thirtieth time this morning, he clicked play. The poor-quality of the video magnified once more on his computer, but even the grainy picture couldn't hide Asanuma's fear-drenched face, and that was prior to Mamoru walking through the doorway. But what got him, what really made his stomach clench, was the moment you hear the door open and the footsteps shuffle into the interrogation room and Asanuma's face contort with more feeling than merely fear.

Mamoru sunk into a numb slouch as he studied Asanuma. He wasn't naive, and knew firsthand how many criminals plead innocence simply to try and weasel their way out of trouble. But this? He never had seen this before. Yes, Asanuma was scared, and that was normal. It was the confusion that Asanuma presented that weighed on Mamoru's conscience, the crying out, asking "why am I here?" In his nine years of police work, he never heard someone ask why they were being arrested with genuine perplexity. Usually people asking that fell under "why me" all while pointing fingers at their counterparts.

Mamoru hastily clicked the stop button when he heard Beryl's fist rap at the window in the recording. No matter how many times Mamoru watched this interrogation, he couldn't bring himself to sit through the scene where he actually arrests his friend.

A click quick of the red 'x' in the corner closed the video player, the screen returning to the archive of the police department. Mamoru propped his cheek on his fist as he stared at the video file, _Interrogation 9X305, Ittou, A, Det. Chiba M, 11.02.18_ , the blue-highlighted title smacking him in the face once more. For as long as that file existed, as long as Asanuma continued to be a prisoner, Mamoru would forever be the one who arrested his friend, immortalized in this grainy, damning video.

His eyes flicked down to his keyboard, slowly sliding past the alphabetized keys. An 'x' embedded in a left-pointing arrow, small and innocuous but so powerful. Mamoru swallowed hard as his finger hovered once more over the delete key.

He didn't know if it would even work, but, damn it, he wanted that video gone. With it deleted, Tsukino could say Asanuma's rights were violated by his interrogation not being video taped. Sure, the DNA was on him, but if Tsukino was half as good as she claimed to be, she could probably come up with an alternative theory. But if Mamoru got rid of this, she would at least have an ace in her pocket to discredit the department and let her client walk, or at the very least, grant him bail before they went to trial.

And for the thirtieth time today, Mamoru snatched his fingers back, clenching them into a tight fist. He knew better than to try and delete police interrogations. Hell, he didn't even know if it would work if he tried. But if word got out that he erased the video, or if it corrupted and he was the last to view it, he wouldn't just be removed from the case. Mamoru would probably be demoted or worse, fired.

He needed to stay on the case. He needed to be that mole for Asanuma and Tsukino, to funnel internal investigation facts to her as they came in.

Mamoru let out another grief-stricken sigh. It didn't matter how many times he told himself that he was helping Asanuma, he still felt anguished by the whole thing. He hadn't the damnedest idea how he was going to try and prove his friend's innocence; after all, Mamoru was an expert at proving the opposite. What Mamoru needed was a piece of questionable information to come to light that he could run with. Something unusual or out of place, something that was unlike Asanuma.

Mamoru hit the play button once more, cringing again when he saw the terror etched in Asanuma's features. Until Mamoru could find something, anything to give to Tsukino, the least he could do is watch the video and pray that Asanuma dropped a crumb of information he could use.

Unfortunately for him, all he could do was focus on his own guilt for not doing more.

#

"Usagi-chan, the video file of Ittou Asanuma's police interrogation just arrived."

Usagi looked up from her paperwork and over to her screen. Sure enough, a piece of mail from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Communications Department was atop the messages in her her inbox. Double-clicking, she quickly skimmed the contents of the disclaimer notice before ushering Minako into her office. "Close the door, please," she instructed as Minako entered, who quickly complied before making her way behind Usagi's desk.

Usagi clicked on the secured download link, watching the crawl of the progress bar in anticipation. She knew that this case was risky and had a snowball's chance in hell of being dismissed. Even Minako, when filled in about the, uh, how did she put it: "drop dead gorgeous piece of ass" and his request for counsel, questioned Usagi's reasons for taking it. Usagi, herself, was still questioning why she succumbed to that leech. But the fact that Chiba Mamoru came to her, set his pride aside and practically begged her to help, meant she couldn't bring herself to say no.

Not that she would ever admit it. No, she'd rather mock Chiba than ever confess she had the smallest sliver of respect for him for doing that.

Download completed, Usagi double-clicked on the file. As the video engulfed her screen, she couldn't help but suck in a startled breath. Usagi didn't even have to hit the play button to see why Chiba was convinced Ittou was innocent; petrification was written all over his face. Not the kind where you wonder how extreme your punishment may be, but true, raw fear.

Usagi glanced over to Minako, whose brows were snapped together as she, too, studied the man on the screen. With a quick nod, Usagi started the video, her eyes trained on Ittou and how he responded to the interrogation. Her eyes widened as she watched Ittou's body language dramatically change once Chiba entered the room. Her stomach lurched as he cried out in confusion and plead his innocence.

For the next twenty minutes Usagi and Minako continued to watch the video, Usagi taking quick note that Chiba's approach with his questioning was well within bounds, a far cry from his usual tactics. Had Chiba not shared that he had a close relationship with this client, she easily could have assumed he was a rookie trying to do everything by-the-book.

When the recording concluded, with Chiba escorting Ittou out of the interrogation room in handcuffs, she pursed her lips in thought. There really hadn't been a confession in this interrogation, so why was Chiba so quick to arrest him? Yes, he mentioned that there was DNA present, but blood evidence could easily be transferred if Ittou had tried to perform CPR, or if he was a witness to the crime. Why be charged so quickly?

And the tone of Chiba's voice during the arrest. Usagi knew what Chiba sounded like when dealt with suspects from the various cases she defended in court, and he was always confident when he read the arrested party their rights. This time? Taking away the noticeable undertone of sadness from arresting his friend, she could hear the uncertainty clear as day. It was obvious the order to arrest her client was not decided by Mamoru Chiba.

"Poor guy," Minako sighed, breaking the silence. "He looks terrified."

"I agree," Usagi replied with a shake of her head. "That reaction?" Sure, she'd dealt with her fair share of falsely accused clients before, but even they never reacted like that. They were always angry, flabbergasted, or pointing their fingers at someone else. Some were concerned, plenty were scared. But Ittou? When the name of the deceased left Chiba's lips, he froze considerably. Too considerably.

Usagi touched her finger to her chin in contemplation. "I think he's hiding something."

Minako tipped her head to the side. "Oh?"

Usagi absently nodded, her sights still on the image of Ittou on her screen. "The way he clammed up when Chiba mentioned the deceased, his body language changed." Usagi moved back through the frames of the video to that point of reference. "See what I mean?"

"Oh, yes, yes, I do see it!" Minako affirmed as she pointed an acrylic nail at the screen. "His posture is so much more tense!"

"Didn't Chiba get him talking about his job?" Usagi mused as she continued to listen to the confession again, this time scribbling down notes she felt pertinent at the moment. "Yes, yes, yes!" she exclaimed as she feverishly wrote down the name of the bank. "The deceased was an employee there too. Minako, start digging into any public information you can find about Ittou Asanuma. I want high school. College. All residences, everything."

"Got it," Minako saluted as she made her exit, noisily closing the door behind her. Usagi had full faith in Minako to pull every last bit of information on Ittou. The woman had years of practice, after all. High school friend turned colleague, Minako's ability to borderline stalk and find out all details on any given person was beyond impressive and slightly creepy. In the end, she proved to be an asset to Usagi's team. Coupled with the vigilante persona Minako took on when doing client research, she was unstoppable.

Usagi cupped her chin as she continued to watch the video stream, her sights set on the young, blonde man. "Ittou Asanuma," she murmured as she stared, "what are you hiding?"

#

Mamoru shoved his hands deep in his pocket as he looked up at the apartment building.

It had been at least ten minutes since he arrived, but he was terrified to walk through the door. In apartment 408 lived Ittou's parents. Parents who treated Mamoru with respect and kindness, who had welcomed him into their family home when he was a teenager.

Sure, this wasn't the same place where he and Asanuma spent time studying together, or hung out like friends often do. But that didn't change the fact that these two adults were the closest thing to parental figures he had.

Mamoru took another bleak look around the sleepy streets of the Taito Ward of Yanaka. While not necessarily a dangerous neighborhood, the district had certainly seen better days. But, if what Asanuma had said was true and his father was unemployed, it made sense why the family moved from Azabu: the rent here was cheaper.

Mamoru had been in his fair share of unpleasant situations while talking with families. He questioned angry wives, stubborn parents, defensive siblings. But this? He was ashamed at how cowardly he was acting, yes, but more ashamed that he had tarnished Asanuma's good name. After all, it was he who arrested Asanuma. It was he who interrogated him. Whatever relationship Mamoru once had with this family was tarnished forever. Even if Asanuma walked free, it would never make a difference. He put their son in jail. Treated him like a criminal.

But, he needed answers.

Answers to questions like why Asanuma went into banking in the first place? Asanuma was a scientist, not a banker. According to his public record, he was a bank teller. Not even a banking officer, just, a teller. Mamoru pinched the bridge of his nose. Asanuma graduated Moto-Azabu top of his class. Went on to University of Tokyo on a full scholarship. How do you get so far removed from studying lunar science that you become a fucking _bank teller_?

Something didn't add up there.

It took about ten more replays of the video, but Mamoru finally stopped beating himself up for being the interrogator and actually listened to the words Asanuma had to say. How his father lost his job, how he took up work to keep his family afloat. What Mamoru didn't get, though, was why his father would allow him to do something like that. His Dad was a brilliant man himself; an automobile engineer. Even if he were to lose a job, with Japanese automobiles being as popular as ever, surely he could have landed on his feet in no time with another job in a field closer to his actual training.

Add in that his Dad was extremely proud of his son's accomplishments, Mamoru couldn't grasp how he would let Asanuma willingly drop out of school to work. Not unless there was more to the story.

And if getting those answers means having to knock on this door and face Ittou Futoshi and Hina, then damn it, so be it.

With renewed purpose, Mamoru made his way to the lobby of the rundown, dated apartment building. Doing his best to look past the grime and condition of the building, especially the aging sign stating that the elevator was broken, Mamoru made his way up the stairwell until he reached the fourth floor. His nose crinkled from the potent, pungent cooking odors coming from one of the tenants, but he remained focused, seeking out the correct apartment number. After making his way midway down the hallway, he came across the chipped, brown painted door, rusting numbers drilled into the center with a peephole just below. Mamoru closed his eyes. _I wouldn't be surprised if they told me to fuck off without even opening the door,_ he lamented.

Letting out one last sigh, Mamoru lifted his fist and knocked loudly. He buried his hands deep in his pocket once more, squaring his shoulders as he stared straight at the doorway. As much as he wanted to cower or hide, he needed to face Asanuma's parents. At the very least, to explain that he was looking for a way to help their son, not hurt him further. How he needed to find out what was going on with this banking path Asanuma was supposedly on, what directed him to it, and what connection he might have to Tojo Akira.

The door cracked slightly, startling Mamoru out of his thoughts. As it opened slightly wider, he swallowed hard, shame dousing him from the wounded stare of Ittou Hina, Asanuma's kind hearted mother. The matriarch of their family, she ran the household while Mr. Ittou worked, filling the dwelling with love and warmth that Mamoru craved. He shuffled under her gaze, grey irises looking at him with skepticism, anger, and grief.

"Mamoru-san, or should I say, Detective Chiba," she greeted harshly. Mamoru bowed his head to her, in respect, but mostly, in disgrace.

"I apologize for intruding, Ittou-san. I can I borrow a few moments of your time? Please?" he requested, his eyes trained on the floor as he continued to hold his position. When she scoffed in response, he lifted his head back up, reaching eye contact with her once more. After another moment of silence passed, his shoulders dropped. Guilt washed over him as she continued to look at him as if he were a mere stranger.

"Please," he finally asked again. "I need to figure out why I am facing you today. It doesn't make sense." Mamoru pleaded.

"Then why?" she asked brokenly, "why did you arrest my son?"

Mamoru swallowed hard. Surely, telling her that it was Inspector's orders wouldn't soothe her pain, nor would telling her that DNA evidence was found all over her son's body, linking him to the deceased. "I didn't want to," he replied, "that's why I am here. I want to clear his name, but I need your help." With a beseeching glance, he let out another large sigh, hoping that the determination to help Asanuma was obvious in his expression. "Please, Ittou-san, help me. Help me help him."

Her expression softened. So much that Mamoru thought for sure that his plea for information may actually result in answers. The door closed softly, the chain that kept them separated jiggling noisily behind the door. He took a step closer to the doorway, anticipating entrance into the genkan, and, if all went well, into the living area to have a conversation. He quickly mulled what gentle questions to ask her, to hopefully coax some sort of detail out that could help the case.

What Mamoru did not expect, however, was the door to fly wide open, Hina's presence replaced by an irate Ittou Futoshi.

"You," Futoshi growled, his eyes narrowed on Mamoru. Mamoru stumbled back slightly from the obvious hatred pouring off of the man he once looked up to. "Who do you think you are, showing up to my home and questioning my wife, after you arrested my son?" he spat, his finger pointing accusingly at Mamoru as his wife trembled behind him. "We brought you into our home! Treated you with respect! And this is how you repay us? By shaming our family name?" Mamoru remained stoic, fighting the urge to wince from each blow Ittou-san delivered.

"Futoshi!" Hina cried out while reaching for her husband's arm, but it was for naught. Futoshi shook her petite frame off of him as he stepped out into the hallway, his face a mere meter away from Mamoru's own. Futoshi matched Mamoru in height, his charcoal irises flickering with loathing as he continued to stare at Mamoru.

"I should have forbidden my son from spending time with a poor, orphaned boy that only attended Azabu by scholarship," Futoshi muttered coldly.

How Mamoru didn't snap, he would never know. Maybe it was the respect he once held for the esteemed engineer, or maybe it was the fact that he never heard such a cutting, heartless statement. But when Mamoru didn't reply, Futoshi shook his head.

"Get the fuck out of here," he ordered before turning around and reentering his apartment, their brief exchange concluded by the slam of the door.

Mamoru stuffed his hands in his pocket and trudged down the hallway and to the stairwell, his heart pounding from the altercation.

He was a fool walking into the lion's den like that. Naïve, thinking he could get any kind of information from Asanuma's family. They were hurt, confused.

But to use their knowledge of his hardships as a way to lash out?

Mamoru wiped his hands down his face as he slowly made his way down the stairwell. He made peace with the loss of his parents years ago. He persevered; studying at the best schools in Japan, making Detective at a young age in a city where crime was at its lowest ever. But to have his history thrown in his face like that?

That shit hurt.

Sullen, Mamoru eventually reached his car and sat in the driver's seat, dropping his forehead on the steering wheel almost immediately. What a fucking disaster. He could have dealt with the rejection of a door slamming in his face, or even a 'fuck off,' but that?

The Ittou Futoshi he remembered from his youth was a kind, caring man. Intelligent and witty. Proud. The man he just faced was the exact opposite: cold. Cruel.

Mamoru picked his head up off of the steering wheel. Sucking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried to collect himself, to bury the feelings that were brewing deep down. He was used to being alone and having to deal with the vagaries of such a life. He was also used to being personally attacked because of his career choice, but not who he was as a person. Still, he would move past Ittou's comments and wake up tomorrow morning ready to face the world and let go of today's misgivings.

But what the hell happened to Ittou that he warped so much from the man in Mamoru's memories?

#

"He was fired for copyright infringement."

Usagi's eyebrows raised in question. When Minako strolled in announcing she found some pertinent information for the Ittou Asanuma case, Usagi was all ears. However, news about his dad? What does that have to do with-

Minako continued. "You're wondering what this has to do with the murder," she smiled coyly. "So, Ittou Futoshi worked for Koto Automation as their top automotive engineer and had patented all of these designs to help revolutionize electronic cars. Well, turns out that he stole these concepts from a company in the UK and applied for personal patents on them, so Koto fired him."

Usagi pursed her lips. "I don't remember hearing anything about this in the news."

"Correct; they agreed to keep it out of the papers if Ittou made restitution. He lost everything; his home, his pension, his retirement, his reputation, everything."

Usagi nodded her head in thought. "It's something."

"Oh, that's just the start of it," Minako resumed. "Shortly before Futoshi lost his job, his wife was diagnosed with breast cancer."

Usagi winced. "Yikes."

"So, I looked into when Asanuma began working at the bank. Three weeks after his father lost his job."

"To pay for his mom's medical expenses," Usagi concluded, but not before furrowing her brow. "But, a bank teller's salary couldn't possibly cover any significant medical expenses."

Minako shook her head. "Nope. He hosted a variety of donation pages online, but it didn't generate much of a response. According to his social media, he does not have a lot of friends."

"Interesting," Usagi mumbled as she strummed her fingers against the desk. "Is his mom still alive?"

Minako nodded. "Yup. Both parents live in Yanaka in the Taito Ward."

"So, until recently, she must have been receiving treatment," Usagi hypothesized. This was definitely useful information; a talented college student suddenly quitting to work in a bank to help pay for his mother's cancer treatments after father loses his job and all of their possessions? "How much, on average, does a teller make? Do we have that number?"

"No, but I can check," Minako answered with a scribble to her notepad.

"Please do. And check against the healthcare registry to confirm whether or not they're receiving healthcare benefits. 30% is a lot of money for treatment if you're not making any."

"Will do. I'll get right back to you."

"You're the best, Minako-chan," Usagi smiled at her assistant. "Thank Kunzite for me."

Minako's grin widened as her cheeks dusted pink at the mention of her clerical boyfriend at the clerk's office. "Will do," she giggled with a wink before leaving the office.

With the door closed, Usagi flipped open the file she began to build on the Ittou case; specifically, a photo of Ittou when Chiba mentioned his former boss. The haunted, terrified look on his face resonated with Usagi and she had a hunch that there was much, much more to the story than the DNA evidence was telling them.

A disgraced father. A sick mother. A son who drops out of school to pay for their livelihoods. Surely, with the father losing everything, Asanuma had to be paying the rent for their apartment, too. That would explain the move from Azabu to Yanaka.

"That's a lot of money," Usagi mused, shaking her head. "It had to come from somewhere."

Usagi focused on Asanuma's face. Could Tojo Akira have something to do with lending more money to Ittou? Was there something going on at Japan Financial Bank that Ittou was somehow involved in? Usagi immediately picked up her phone.

"Set up a meeting for me with Ittou tomorrow. The sooner, the better.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey guys! I am SO SORRY I have been so MIA lately. Life... it's been crazy. Between work, family commitments, and a hell of a lot of events I've had to attend, I've barely had a chance to write._

 _Thank you so much for all your patience as I worked through this next chapter! I know it's been a good handful of months since I've updated this guy. I hope you still find it enjoyable! Lots of UxM in this chapter!_

 _And last but certainly not least, a special thank you to Pia Bartolini for her beta'ing of this chapter. Her life is about 500x more hectic than mine, yet she still takes the time to review these. You're a rockstar!_

 _Please review and let me know how you liked this!_

 _Much Love, MU_

* * *

Usagi grimaced at the contact from the cold, steel chair of the detention center's meeting space. _Of course, of all days, I chose a skirt today,_ she grumbled inwardly with a shiver. She shook her head in irritation and crossed her legs at her ankles, doing her best to not allow the cool temperature of the seat get the best of her.

Redirecting her focus, Usagi reached into her briefcase and pulled out her notes. The thickness of the manila folder was gradually increasing, much to Usagi's satisfaction, as her and Minako's research was paying off. With the discovery of his mother's illness, dropping out of school, and the employment at the bank, dots were connecting. There were just a few missing blanks, and Usagi knew Asanuma was the answer key.

As speculated, Japan Financial paid their tellers an average of ¥1,502 an hour. It wasn't awful; more than Usagi would have assumed. In fact, it might be enough to cover the ¥58,000 a month rent of his parent's apartment. But factoring in the unknown medical expenses there was no way he could cover both.

So, her team turned to checking his credit. Perhaps a credit card or two to cover the payments. Only to discover, oddly enough, that Asanuma's credit was pristine. Meaning, either there were no ongoing medical costs and payment plans, or someone else was paying them. Given that his parent's credit and reputation were in the toilet from the discovered scandal, they certainly weren't contributing.

The clanging noise of metal doors and handcuffs brought Usagi out of her thoughts. Asanuma appeared outside of the barred office escorted by a uniformed officer, who quietly opened the door. Silence hovered as the he ushered Asanuma to his seat. "Buzz when you're all set," the officer instructed with a tip of his hat before disappearing down the hallway. Once the echo of the closing door was heard, Usagi felt comfortable beginning their conversation.

She frowned as her eyes skipped over his downcast face and bruised eye. "How are you holding up, Ittou-san?" Usagi ventured. "Anyone giving you trouble?"

Her heart sank as he vigorously shook his head in denial. "No, no," he quickly answered, eyes trained on his cuffed, folded hands. Usagi sympathetically placed her hand on top of his.

"Are you sure?" she inquired again, dropping the subject when he shook his head once more. "Okay, then. Just know if there is anyone giving you trouble, you tell me, okay?" She paused as he nodded his head, and despite the slow repetition, she knew he would never breathe a word. Her shoulders sagged slightly, but quickly squared. Now wasn't the time to become a nurturing mother; it was time to show him that she was a strong, dedicated advocate for his freedom.

Changing pace, Usagi flipped open her file and skimmed over the contents. "We go to prosecution in five days," she announced as Asanuma lifted his head. "Basically, the goal here is to have the judge deny prosecution; throwing out the case. Best case scenario, he rules that there is no case and you walk out of here a free man. Worst case is we move on to the trial."

"Trial?" he whispered, the tone so jagged it cut like broken glass.

Usagi swallowed hard. "Worst case," she repeated. "But my goal here is to do my damnedest to make sure we never, ever have to get to that point. I am going to fight for you, Ittou. I am going to fight like hell on Friday to have you walk out of here with your name cleared. And if I can't do that, I am going to stand by your side the rest of the way. I will make sure that every judge in Japan knows that I am your advocate, your partner. But, let's not talk about that, because that's worst case scenario. I want to see you walk out of here on Friday. I want our worst case to be that you receive probation instead of a trial."

Asanuma shifted his arms closer to his body as he sat up straighter in his chair. "Probation? As in, I'd be under restriction?"

"Well, kind of. The case would be dropped upon observation of good behavior for a period of time and stricken from your record," Usagi clarified.

"But this would still be attached to me, yes?"

Usagi nodded. "Until probation is up, yes."

Asanuma leaned forward slightly. "And how long is that, usually?"

"It can be anywhere from 6 months to 3 years," she answered honestly.

Asanuma slammed his hands into the table, a shuddering boom filling the room. "So, I'd have to live with this ridiculous accusation for, for, for months, maybe years?" Asanuma exclaimed in disbelief. "But I didn't _do_ anything! I didn't do this! I, I,I…" he trailed off as his body began to visibly shake. "What do I need to do? Please, I'll do anything. Anything!" Asanuma pleaded.

The beginnings of a victorious smile twitched the corner of her lips, but she suppressed it. "I want to get the evidence thrown out," Usagi declared as she leaned in closer to him. "Evidence is like a jigsaw puzzle. All it takes is once piece to be removed for it to be incomplete. And an incomplete puzzle leaves room for the police to look like they didn't complete their work."

"But, how can you do that? Mamoru… Mamoru-sempai… he said that…"

Usagi cut him off immediately. "Of course he did. That's his job, Ittou; to make you doubt yourself. To make you think you did this, even thought you're declaring you didn't. He's allowed to lie to you," she stated. She almost, _almost_ felt bad when Asanuma's eyes widened in surprise, but not enough to take it back. Even though Chiba was his friend, and he was paying her handsomely to be here, she wasn't going to lie to Asanuma.

"He lied to me?" Asanuma asked in a small voice. Usagi pressed her lips into a firm, thin line. She knew she should absolve Chiba maybe just a teeny, tiny bit, given he didn't exactly _lie_ to him. He just planted the seed of doubt.

"I watched the interrogation," she responded vaguely. "I heard him tell you that all this evidence is going to point to you." When he nodded in confirmation, she continued on. "Chiba, his job is to find the person responsible. And as of right now, Tokyo Metropolitan believes that it is you. We need to unravel just one piece here to make them question that they have the right man in custody."

It was a line she used a million times, informing the accused about the police and their dirty, sneaky tactics. How they were quick to judge. How they had no reservations doing what they needed to do to get the guilty party put away. Normally, she loved berating Chiba. After all, she loathed the man.

So why did it feel so wrong this time? The look on Asanuma's face… it was like telling a child that there is no Santa Claus.

"How do we do that?" he asked in a defeated voice. And even though she felt slightly guilty, she knew she needed to continue on, for his sake.

"The evidence report shows…"

#

Mamoru was eyeballs deep in paperwork when his belt began to vibrate. He bit the side of his cheek, hastily typing out his final thought before he snapped his phone off of its holder. "Chiba," he bellowed into the device, his eyes remaining on his computer screen.

"Meet me at the Konbini down the road from the station," a voice prompted.

It took a few seconds to recognize, but once he did, Mamoru tore his focus away from his report. "Uh, hang on," he replied in a voice barely above a whisper. Through his bangs, he took a quick glance at Makoto, also focused on her paperwork, before a quick glance over to the Inspector's office, whose door was closed. Not wasting a moment longer, he lifted himself out of his seat and made his way towards an empty set of desks. Once he was sure he was out of earshot, he answered. "What?"

"Are you deaf? I said, meet me at the Mini Stop. Clean your ears out once in a while," she chastised him, immediately eliciting an eye-roll.

"Give me five," he replied. Wasting no time, he ended the call and refastened the device to his belt clip. Mamoru pursed his lips in thought; he needed to make a nonchalant exit. But how?

He glanced at his watch, noting the time. _I could always excuse grabbing lunch,_ he pondered. _But Kino might want to come with me._ He sighed inwardly; how many times has he walked out of here before without informing someone? _Multiple times, you dumb fuck. Stop acting like you need permission. Get your shit and go._

Doing his best to remain stoic, Mamoru walked back over to his desk and reached for his jacket and keys. "I'll be right back," he informed Makoto, whose head remained down as she read through a report. When she gave a dismissive wave, he huffed in relief that she didn't ask where he was going. Mamoru clutched his coat and keys with insecurity as he made his way out of the office. Once the door to the Detectives Unit closed behind him, the lump that unconsciously formed in his throat loosened.

Mamou couldn't help but shuffle down the stairs in haste as he made his getaway. If Tsukino was calling, that meant she had some kind of information, maybe even a clue. As much as he hated feeling sneaking out of the office, he needed to know what she wanted. After all, to pull him out of work to meet her somewhere meant something more than a follow-up. Mamoru continued his descent down the four floors, his eyes shifting around keenly. From uniformed officers to clerks, everyone seemed to be focused on their own tasks at hand, allowing the Detective to make his way to the bottom floor of the building unnoticed. With a quick push at the door handle, he entered the parking lot and made his way over to his vehicle, ducking into the unmarked, black patrol car. Not wasting another moment, Mamoru slipped the key into the ignition and pulled out the designated spot in haste.

Once he approached the exit, he could feel his palms sweating against the steering wheel, heart pounding and knees shaking. Everything that he was about to do – especially fraternizing with the enemy – made him sick. He took an _oath._ An oath that meant _everything_ to him.

Morally, though?

Mamoru pressed his foot to the gas, pulling out of the lot with an erratic turn. There was no other option. He would find out the truth, at any length. No oath, badge, or hesitation would stop him.

Even it if meant feeling like he was going against everything he believed in.

One intersection later, Mamoru pulled off to the curb and parked on the shoulder in front of the Konbini. He was about to unbuckle and make his way out, but paused once he saw a figure clad in a ridiculously bright shade of yellow stomping to his vehicle. He couldn't help but stare at her quizzically, coupled with a slackened jaw when she opened the passenger's door and just sat down, like it was no big deal.

"Geez, can't you, I don't know, clean the interior of your car every so often," she huffed as she looked out at the dusty dashboard."

"Can't you dress, ya know, a little less like a fucking ray of sunshine?" he taunted back. She huffed before slipping on an oversized pair of white-brimmed sunglasses.

"Drive," she instructed as she reached for her seatbelt. Wasting no time to get away from the crowded mart, he maneuvered back into traffic and headed south. "So I am safe to assume you don't have GPS in here?"

"You assume correctly," he affirmed dryly, rolling his eyes _yet again_ as she huffed while erratically tapping at her iPhone. When the automated voice of the GPS from her phone instructed him to turn left at the next intersection, he raised his eyebrow in question.

"Where are we going?" he asked as he pressed his foot to the brake at the intersection, slowing the car down to a stop as he lifted the turn signal. Once the road was clear, he accelerated the vehicle onto the service road towards the expressway.

"Asanuma's house," she answered.

"But, Asanuma lives in Yanaka," Mamoru countered.

"Correction, his _parents_ live in Yanaka. Ittou, however, lives in Omotesandō."

Mamoru gripped harder at the steering wheel, blinking erratically as he tried to process. "Omotesandō?"

"Yup," Usagi affirmed.

"I don't understand," Mamoru said, dumbfounded. "Omotesandō, of all places? What the fuck is going on here?"

Usagi shook her head and shrugged, leaving Mamoru perplexed. Had she mentioned Shibuya, or Minato, or hell, Kabukicho, he wouldn't have bat an eye. But Omotesandō, where the wealthy live? The district filled with luxury boutiques and restaurants? Mamoru could barely afford a meal at a restaurant there, let alone rent an apartment in the area. How did a fucking bank teller have a place in one of the most luxurious areas in Tokyo?

The ride to Omotesandō was surprisingly quick, partly due to the fact that his mind simply couldn't wrap around this ridiculous idea. As he merged off of the highway and onto the tree-lined avenue, Mamoru looked increasingly dumbfounded.

"So you mean to tell me," Mamoru finally said after twenty minutes of brain-wracking silence, "that his parents live in that dump of an apartment in Yanaka, and Asanuma is living large down here in rich-bitch land?"

Usagi went to open her mouth, but the GPS validated his question when it informed him that the destination was on their left. Sure enough, when Mamoru looked out the window, he was presented with a luxurious condominium building.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," he mumbled. "You're joking, right?"

"Nope," Usagi replied. "This is it."

Mamoru idled on the side of the road for a moment, staring at the gleaming windows of the modern building. _Inhale, exhale_ , he told himself, his breathing staggered as his eyes fixated on the building.

Distrust coursed through his veins. Doubt percolated in his core. He was not a stupid man. No; in fact, he was a fucking _brilliant_ man, given he attended one of the top schools in Tokyo on scholarship and not on a parent's coattails. And right now, every single fiber in his body told him that there was some seriously shady shit going down.

Mamoru erratically pulled back onto the road and swerved into an adjacent visitors' lot, ignoring Tsukino's obnoxious cry to slow down. He needed answers. Now. With a flash of his badge to the lot attendant, he pulled into the first vacant spot he could before slamming the gear shift into park.

"Excuse me!" Usagi exclaimed as Mamoru hurriedly unbuckled his seatbelt, "Just where do you think you're going?"

Mamoru gave her a quick side glance. "I'm going to stare at the trees," he bit sarcastically. "What do you think? I'm going in there."

"Oh no you don't," Usagi insisted as she jerked at her seatbelt release, "not without me!"

"What? No, you're not!" Mamoru spat back at her as he opened his door and stepped out of the vehicle. "You're staying here."[i1]

"Like hell I am!" Usagi countered, stepping out into the parking lot and slamming her door in dramatic fashion. "I'm going in there whether you like it or not!"

Mamoru scoffed. "Why don't you go down to Louis Vuitton or whatever shit store over there and leave the detective to the police work?"

Usagi pulled her sunglasses off, her blue eyes flashing as she rounded the back of the car. "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even fucking be here," she spat. "Either we go together, or we don't go at all and you find your own fucking way to get this information."

Mamoru paused, his eyebrows furrowed in fury. She was right; she was the one with the address. Meaning, she had permission to visit the building, whereas he would need a warrant. A warrant that he wouldn't be able to get.

Usagi grinned in triumph. "I'm assuming you're realizing that you have no way into the building, yes?"

Mamoru grunted in annoyance. Unfortunately the golden ticket for him to search that apartment was Tsukino Usagi. Meaning, if he didn't stop running his mouth, she could nix this whole thing.

 _Fuck me._

"Fine, let's go."

#

To say he was irritated was an understatement.

Having to stand idly behind Tsukino, listen to her explain to the concierge why she was there, presenting her credentials and permissions to obtain said keys, was annoying as fuck. That was _his_ job. His. It took everything he had in him, biting the side of his cheek to keep himself in check, to not say shit. He couldn't. If someone came and spoke to the concierge or building manager, they could identify him by his name or badge. So he let Usagi be the front runner, introducing him as some ridiculous _intern_ of hers, essentially proclaiming him to be her bitch.

He followed behind her, that ridiculous yellow dress burning his retinas as natural light poured into the building. How it rounded the shape of her ass. And not too poorly, if he was honest with himself. In fact, he was surprised that such a petite girl had an ass at all. Slightly bubbled, probably would give a good squ-

"Here we are, miss," the building manager interrupted, startling Mamoru out of his ridiculous and provocative thoughts.

"Thank you," she replied as the manager open the door, access officially granted to the condo. His mind quickly switched off of pervert mode and into detective, sure to separate any and all anger and emotion as he entered the expansive space.

Unfortunately, focusing on the physical scene was harder for Mamoru than he thought - the dwelling was massive. Everything was brand new, from the couches to the ornate décor. Windows stretched from floor to ceiling, draped in rich fabrics that screamed money. And while part of it was because he was so bewildered over how Asanuma managed to have such commodities in his life, the other part was his own self-doubt. Doubt that he was so quick to assume that his only friend was wrong. That Mamoru was letting his feelings get in the way instead of separating black and white facts.

As he began his scope of the area, skimming over the ridiculous marble figures on the console table, he thought back to the interrogation. Asanuma worked to save his parents' home; yet they lived in a shithole. So if he's paying for that, who was paying for this?

"It's definitely his place," Usagi suddenly voiced, startling him out of his own questions. He turned in the direction of her voice. She was staring at an 8 x 10 frame, a family photo of the Ittous from years past. A time before everything changed.

For Mamoru, though, it only confirmed his doubts. If he truly did live here, what the hell was Asanuma doing?

He shook himself and moved into the bedroom, occupied only by a lone bed and desk. Oddly enough, it was the most spartan room in the house. Once again, another photo was beside the neatly-made bed, but Mamoru turned his attention to the desk. Three wide-screen monitors spanned the entire length, a keyboard, mouse, calculator, and various notes spread all around. He furrowed his brow as he glanced over the material, concern replacing the doubt.

Numbers.

12 digit numbers, in fact.

Mamoru pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of his back pocket and quickly slipped them on, in case this was pertinent information. Then he moved the first page of the paperwork out of the way and saw the second page duplicated the first. And the third, and the fourth. All 12 digit numbers, handwritten, and crossed off or circled. As he continued to catalogue the paperwork, a laptop docked behind the monitors caught his eye. Mamoru frowned; why was it behind the monitors and not easier to access? A small nub of plastic was plugged in to the USB port, too. Perhaps a flash drive?

The sound of high heels clicking against the marble floor did not phase him, nor did her silhouette as she approached. "Did you find something?" Usagi inquired curiously, peering over the desk.

"I'm not sure," Mamoru answered honestly. "It's a bunch of numbers; all 12 digits."

Usagi pressed her index finger to her chin in thought. "Hey, aren't bank accounts—"

"Did you hear that?"

Usagi snapped her mouth shut, her eyes widening as the snick of a door opening echoed through the space. The pair remained frozen for a second, wondering if it was the building manager, only to have their guesses squashed when a thick-accented voice accompanied the sound of footsteps.

"Yeah boss, I am here," rumbled the mysterious voice, immediately putting Mamoru on alert. His eyes raced around the bedroom and before he had any time to think, he grabbed Usagi and pulled her into the lone closet.

* * *

 _A/N: :O!_

 _Stay tuned!_


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